


Get My Head Straight

by Damnmyleg



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Omegle Chat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damnmyleg/pseuds/Damnmyleg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ficlet on Sherlock relapsing and how John would deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get My Head Straight

**Author's Note:**

> This is an Omegle chat with an anonymous (If you are reading this and either want to add your name, edit, or want me to take this off, please comment and tell me so, and I will do so immediately:) and is quickly edited by me to upload. Enjoy.

Sherlock answered the phone with a growl, not even bothering to check who it was – they all wanted to ask the same thing anyway. “I’m clean!”

 

"Well then open your bloody door Sherlock!" John said through clenched teeth over the phone.

 

"Why?" He growled, "I'm fine in here." He was stalling for time, trying desperately to hide the incriminating evidence that littered his room. He knew John wouldn't give up - the stubborn man would probably break down the door, or something equally as drastic.

 

"I'm serious Sherlock. Let me in. Now." John said as he thumped on the bedroom door. 

 

Sherlock wrenched the phone from his ear and threw it down on the bed, not even bothering to hang up. "Leave, John!"

 

"Sherlock!" John screamed both into the phone and through the door. "I'm gonna' kick this bloody door down if you do not open it." He added. The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched upwards as he stuffed the small bags of white powder in one of the last places he thought John would look - his underwear drawer. 

 

"Go ahead - but you'd have to pay for it."

 

John chose to ignore that comment and prepared himself. It didn't take as much strength as he thought it would and was standing in the empty doorway in seconds. As soon as he was inside the room John frantically looked around. Nothing, the room was clean, but John knew better. "Where did you hide them?" He asked, too calmly.

 

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at the erratic man’s entrance; charging in like a bull seeing red. "I don't know what you're talking about John, I told you - I'm clean." He spread his arms wide, inviting John to search his room.

 

John raised an eyebrow and did just that. He checked everywhere that he could think of. Under the mattress, in all of Sherlock's coat pockets. He even checked if there were false bottoms to the bedside table drawers. Eventually he straightened up and walked back in front of Sherlock. "Where are they?" He asked again out of breath. "And do not lie. I /know/ you have them."

 

Sherlock frowned at the mess John had made in his recently cleaned room. He sighed and straightened the duvet on his bed, before sitting down and holding his head in his hands. "You can search all you want, John. They're not here. They're not here, because I don't have any. Clean."

 

John shook his head and looked around the room. "I don't believe you." He said as he got out his phone.

 

He gave John a long look, his eyes narrowing as he wondered who was the recipient of John's texts. "Out of all the people I know, John, I thought you'd be the one to believe me." He knew it was a low blow, but he was long past caring. It was either Mycroft or Lestrade, and Sherlock knew that if either of them got involved, it would spell trouble.

 

John looked up with a frown. "I would believe you if you hadn't locked me outside of your room." He said simply with a voice now calm.

 

Sherlock silently cursed himself. He stayed quiet, unable to reply to the man. He'd just have to hope that he'd forgive him in the end.

 

"Mycroft says check the underwear drawer." John says as he puts his phone away. He looks from the drawer then to Sherlock. "Will I find them there?" He asks quietly.

 

Sherlock tusked - of course Mycroft would know where he would hide them. He gave John a calculating look, before looking back down at his feet, unable to meet the betrayal in John's eyes. There was no use in lying any longer. "Yes," he said quietly, "They're in there."

 

John nodded and got the drugs. He hastily shoved them in his back pocket and took one step outside Sherlock's room. Sherlock ran his hands through his hair, exhaling slowly. Could have been worse. No problem, he'd just get some more, not difficult.

 

John had planned to just leave and flush the stash but his emotions got the better of him. They always had. He swiftly turned around and stomped back in pointing accusingly at Sherlock. "Why?"

 

Sherlock straightened up quickly as John stormed back in. Why what? Why did he lie, why did he take them? In truth, Sherlock didn't really know the answers himself. He grinned shakily, "Why not?"

 

"Don't." John shook his head. He had to clear his throat to continue. "Don't say that. I thought this was over and you had to be a selfish /prick/ and start it all up again. Tell me why you took them." He finished.

 

Sherlock knew there was no other way to rid the man but to oblige him. "There are times when I just can't get my head straight. So many thoughts, so many observations, so many little things just crowding around in there." He shrugged, trying to explain it. "The cocaine helped. It calms everything down, makes it all seem clearer. With it, I can finally concentrate without being distracted by the speed of my own thoughts." Sherlock sighed - he didn't expect John to understand.

 

John looked away and frowned. "Look," He eventually said, "I get that it's hard sometimes but I just want you to do one thing for me. Okay Sherlock? For me?"

 

"What?" He knew what John was asking, and he knew there was no way he could promise it. He had tried to give it all up once before, but in the end, it all came down to the peace and ease he felt under the influence. "What do you want me to do?"

 

"Next time you feel like," John gestured toward Sherlock, "Just... tell me. Tell me before you go out and do something stupid. Tell me and I will do anything to help you through it." John was now looking directly at Sherlock. "Okay?"

 

Sherlock straightened and caught John's gaze, seeing the earnest desire to help. It was an intriguing request - certainly better than asking Sherlock to go cold turkey. "All right, fine." He held out his hand with a mock air of grave formality, ready to seal the deal.

 

John sighed deeply at the sound of Sherlock's compliance and shook his hand. "Thank you."

 

"Now," Sherlock said with a small smile, "I suggest you find a way to replace my door before Mrs Hudson finds out."

**Author's Note:**

> Also, if you find mistakes, please comment, I edited this late at night and would not be surprised to find hundreds of mistakes. Thank you.


End file.
